


Handle With Care

by uena



Series: The Sweetest Thing [19]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5244983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis knows Athos very well by now - well enough to know when something's wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princeyoungjaes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeyoungjaes/gifts).



Aramis is worried. Something has happened. He _knows_ that something has happened. Athos is acting weird. Skittish. But not like Aramis would be skittish – stammering and floundering around the apartment like a new-born calf. Athos is skittish like a woodland creature, a big one, possibly an elk. He just … stalks away, head held high. It's all in his eyes, really. The nervousness, the discomfort. 

Aramis gnaws on his thumb, and frowns. It's Saturday, and he's alone in the flat – for several reasons. Porthos left because there was an emergency in the orphanage and they had to call him in on his free day. Athos left because he's a majestic elk who stalks away when things upset him, apparently. 

If only Aramis knew what he did. Because he has absolutely no idea. One moment he was having breakfast with Athos, cosy and comfortable and really, really nice, and the next Athos had some horribly important errand to run, and stalked out the door. Aramis needs help. Porthos' help, to be precise; and since Flea gave him permission to drop in whenever he chooses to, Aramis chooses to do so RIGHT NOW. He will not let this fester. He's tried that. It doesn't work. 

So he bundles himself up in his winter coat and a really nice scarf Charon knitted for him, takes his keys, and sets off. Winter is introducing itself with storm and slush this year, and by the time Aramis has reached the orphanage, he's wet from head to toe. He shakes himself like a dog before entering the building, and takes off his sodden clothes right by the entrance. Some very pragmatic person has planted a coat stand in an old tub there. 

It was probably Flea. At least she's the one he runs into when probing the depths of the building. 

"Oh hey there, handsome stranger," she greets him, giving him a nice, warm hug. "Missing your boyfriend, eh? Sorry for pulling him away on your weekend, but the Captain is practically _dying_ , and Porthos is the only one who can convince him to stay in bed." 

Aramis lets out an amused little huff. "The Captain must consider him a kindred spirit." 

Flea snorts. "Yeah, I know, right?" 

"Do you know where he is?" Aramis asks her. "Do you think I'd be in his way?" 

"Oh, pfft," she makes. "Nonsense! He's handling kids, Aramis, not doing rocket science. You just go right up to the common room – he's supervising playtime at the moment." 

"Thank you," Aramis says, giving her another hug before hurrying away. The closer he gets to the common room, the more he wonders why it's so quiet. He's been to the orphanage several times by now. It's never been this quiet. When he enters the room, Porthos is standing in the middle of it, eyes closed. None of the children are visible. Aramis smirks. Hide and seek. Splendid idea – especially when you want to keep the noise level down. 

Eventually Porthos opens his eyes, grinning. "Ready or not, here I come!" 

Aramis probably shouldn't shiver with arousal, hearing him say that, but here they are. He clears his throat. 

Porthos turns his head and spots him. "Found you!" He strides over to the door, and welcomes Aramis with a kiss. "That's a nice surprise!" 

Aramis clears his throat some more. "I wouldn't be too sure about that." 

 

"What do you mean, he just left?" Porthos has delegated his search-duties over to Peter, who was the first to be found, mostly because he's wearing his Spider Man costume again and about as effective at hiding as Big Bird. They're sitting at the table, each cradling a cup of hot chocolate in their hands, brought over by Charon, who welcomed Aramis with a hug and a kiss. Apparently he's seen the picture too. 

"I mean that he – I don't know - he just … closed off suddenly. One minute we were talking, and he was smiling at me, and then suddenly he … he just left." 

Porthos frowns. "What were you talking about?" 

"Nothing! Family stuff! He told me about Angelique's birthday coming up, and that we're all invited to the party, and that you always make lemon blueberry cookies for her, cause they're her favourite, and I told him about my latest call with Hannah." 

"Which was about?" 

"Again: nothing! She's thinking about getting back with Eva and actually asking me for relationship advice – can you believe that? Oh, and then she asked if we already had Athos watch, while, you know, and -" 

"Did you tell him that?" Porthos interrupts him gently. 

"I think I did," Aramis muses. "It was just so _her_ you know, and -" 

He sees Porthos' expression change, and a little blip of panic travels up to his brain. "It was a joke! And Athos knew it was a joke! You know I would never – never even suggest -" 

"I know you wouldn't," Porthos interrupts him gently. "And Athos knows it, too. It's just -" He stops, and casts a look around them. But the children are paying absolutely no attention to them – not even the ones already found by Peter. So Porthos takes a deep breath, and resumes talking. "When I was twenty-five, I was with a girl called Sally. She was beautiful, and fun, and exciting, good with the kids, and she liked Athos." Porthos swallows dryly. "You know that was always important to me." 

Aramis nods, tilting his head. "She sounds amazing." 

"She was," Porthos agrees. "To a point. Only she didn't understand how Athos is not interested in sex – didn't understand how anyone could not be interested in sex. We had actual fights about that." 

Aramis blinks at him. "Why was that so important to her?" 

"Apparently if you don't want to sleep with anybody, you're broken, and need to be fixed." 

"Oh God, tell me she didn't tell him that." 

"She did," Porthos growls. "She actually went to him, and asked him for a threesome – for my birthday." 

Just like that, Aramis feels like crying. 

"There's more," Porthos says softly. Aramis stares at him. "She told him since he was always with us anyway, it was basically his duty to do this for me. Because I was such a good friend to him. Because I always made sure to include him. It was time for him to pay me back." 

"How could she think -" 

"I don't know," Porthos interrupts him, his voice sad. "She thought she was fixing him, I guess." 

Aramis closes his eyes. "Did he do it?" 

"He would have," Porthos says gloomily, "only Sally was so proud of herself she told me a day early. I broke up with her that day. Took Athos out to a fancy restaurant instead of her on my birthday." 

Aramis lets out an unsteady breath of air. "I need to talk to him." 

"You want me to come with you?" Porthos asks, his expression worried. 

"No, you have to make sure the Captain doesn't kill himself," Aramis replies, managing a little smile. "I'll take care of this, I promise." 

Porthos smiles back at him, and leans in, gives him a kiss. "You're far more amazing than Sally ever was, you know?" 

"I know," Aramis whispers back, actually believing it, a little.


	2. Chapter 2

Athos is not picking up his phone. Aramis has tried him twelve times on his way home. Nothing. He pushes into the building and marches through the lobby towards the elevator, trying to ignore the headache building at the base of his skull. He promised Porthos he was going to fix this, and he will, but first he has to find Athos. Summoned by an impatient push of Aramis' index finger the elevator rumbles down to the ground floor, and opens an inviting pair of doors. Aramis steps inside, pushes the button for the penthouse, takes a deep breath. 

He is so, so sorry. He should have known that mentioning Hannah's stupid joke would hurt Athos – even without the haunting of Sally. He should have known, because to Aramis himself, it wasn't a joke. There must have been something in his voice when he told Athos, something that gave him away. Because Aramis can't deny that the thought of Athos watching … it is arousing. Athos must have noticed. Aramis could kick himself. This is all his fault. 

The elevator carries him upwards, sturdy and dependable as always, while Aramis tries to come up with an idea. Where could Athos have gone? Once he finds him, what is he going to say? _I'm sorry_ is just not going to cut it. Aramis frowns, lets himself into the apartment – and notices Athos' coat on the wardrobe. 

He's home. He's come home. Aramis shimmies out of his own coat and scarf, kicks off his shoes, and rounds the corner to the common area. Athos is standing by the stove – making tea. 

"Oh thank god you're back," Aramis breathes out, forgetting his intention to tread carefully. He rushes over to Athos, gives him a hug, holds him tight. 

"Of course I am," Athos drawls. "What, did you think I would not return?" 

He sounds off, Aramis notices, although he can't pinpoint _how_. He just knows he does. "I'm so sorry," he whispers. 

Athos looks at him then, a little too quickly, immediately worried. "About what?" 

"About that stupid joke of Hannah's I told you about," Aramis says, doing his very best to meet Athos' gaze steadily. "I know it brought up … bad memories." 

Athos steps back from him. "You talked to Porthos." 

"I did," Aramis confirms guiltily. 

"He told you about Sally." 

Aramis watches as Athos finishes his tea preparations, uncertain what to say, how to proceed. "You're wet," he eventually observes. 

Athos casts him a glance from the corner of his eye. "So I am. I took a walk. Cleared my head." He seems distant, suddenly, has pulled up a wall between himself and Aramis. 

Aramis takes a deep breath. "What she did was horrible." 

"Was it?" Athos asks, carrying his tea tray over to the couch table. "She wanted to surprise her boyfriend with something she thought would make him happy." 

Aramis needs a moment to digest that sentence. "What about your happiness?" 

"Well, as far as she knew, being with Porthos was the most important part of my happiness. She was right." 

Aramis' forehead wrinkles in confusion. "She pressured you into something you didn't want." 

Athos puts the tray down, and shrugs. "I could have said no." Aramis stares at him for a long moment, still standing by the kitchen counter, frozen into place. "If you want me to watch -" Athos says, slowly sitting down, and Aramis finally _moves_. 

"No!" he grinds out, closing the distance between himself and Athos with a few angry strides. "You don't get to do that! You don't get to offer yourself like what you want doesn't matter!" He sits down beside Athos, takes both of his hands into his own and gives them a squeeze. "You don't need to be fixed, and you don't need to – to watch me and Porthos having sex either. You need to do what you want to do." 

Athos looks at him then, eyes wide and slightly disbelieving, as if he cannot for the life of him understand that his needs matter just as much as everyone else's. 

"I won't deny that the idea of you watching -" Aramis swallows, and stops, takes an unsteady breath. "It turns me on. But the thing about me is that -" he stops again, surprised that Athos hasn't pulled away his hands yet. "Everything turns me on, Athos." He takes a deep breath. "If one of us needs to be fixed, it's me, not you." 

That gets him a sad little smile from Athos, but an honest one, nonetheless. "You do not need to be fixed either, Aramis. I think Porthos rather enjoys your … passion." 

Aramis blushes. "I'm so lucky to have you for a friend," he gets out, and then he pushes forward, into Athos' arms, clings to him, suddenly overcome by emotion. 

"I am sorry for worrying you," Athos murmurs, holding him, stroking his hands through Aramis' hair. "I should not have run away the way I did." 

"It's alright," Aramis whispers, pushing his face into Athos' neck, breathing him in. "Hannah's stupid joke must have upset you." 

"It did," Athos admits. "I was suddenly so afraid that our time with you had come to an end. I liked Sally, you know – before it happened. I blamed myself afterwards. If it had not been for me, Porthos would never -" 

"You … you were afraid he was going to break up with me over this?" Aramis gets out, suddenly feeling cold. 

"It was irrational," Athos says, holding Aramis closer. "He would never do that, I know." He strokes the hair away from Aramis' forehead, gentle. "He is far too fond of you, Aramis – and so am I." 

Aramis tackles him onto his back then, hugs him tight. Because Athos, as wonderful and wise as he is, might just be a complete and utter fool.


	3. Chapter 3

Porthos is late to come back home that evening, so they have to make do without him as best they can. Aramis is dozing on the couch, with his head on Athos' shoulder, while Athos reads Pratchett, occasionally reading the most amusing passages out loud to him. They're all cuddled up, with Aramis draped over Athos, precariously close to drooling on him. It's bliss. Not quite _pure_ bliss, because that would require Porthos, but still rather amazing, warm and safe and utterly comfortable. 

It's been a while since Aramis last felt so clingy, and the fact that Athos humours him so beautifully means the world to him. Because the idea of Porthos leaving – of Porthos leaving because of Aramis hurting Athos … it's scary. Somewhat unrealistic, at this point, but still scary. Aramis swallows dryly. Snuggles closer to Athos. "You … you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" 

"Would tell you what?" Athos asks, absent-mindedly. 

"If this made you uncomfortable." 

Athos frowns then, and turns his head. They're almost nose to nose, they're so close. 

"I am not untouchable, Aramis," Athos says softly, allowing his book to rest on his stomach so he can cup Aramis' cheek. "I might find sexual intercourse to be uncomfortable, but that does not mean that I do not enjoy physical closeness." He looks at Aramis for a moment, and then he leans in, kisses him. Chaste. Innocent. "See?" 

Aramis licks his lips. He doesn't mean to, but he does. Athos clears his throat. Aramis blushes. "Sorry." For a moment he thinks Athos is going to kiss him again. That kiss hangs suspended in the air between them, like a snowflake, and then Athos breathes out and it floats away. Aramis swallows dryly. "But you'd tell me, wouldn't you? Please? Because I don't – sometimes I don't _think_ , and then I say things, _stupid things_ , or I just -" 

"Aramis," Athos interrupts him gently, waits until Aramis looks into his eyes. "You must understand that I never - I never had this. Porthos was always there, was always with me, but his partners … they were never like you. I never wanted to hold on to them for their own sake. I wanted for them to stay for Porthos. You … you I want to stay for myself as well." He strokes his thumb over Aramis' cheekbone, keeps gazing into his eyes. "It is a rather selfish desire." 

Athos' voice is low, and his gaze is steady, and Aramis thinks he might combust in a second or two. There is so much honest devotion in Athos' eyes, so much _care_ , and Aramis has no idea how to react to this, has no idea what to do with the need to hold Athos close, to offer himself to him like he would to Porthos. He wants to tell Athos that he loves him, that he wants to be with him forever; but he hasn't even told Porthos yet, and the words remain unspoken. 

"I would tell you," Athos says eventually, his hand still on Aramis' cheek. "Although I doubt that you even could make me uncomfortable at this point." 

"But I did it just this morning," Aramis reasons, a little guiltily. 

"That was not you, that was the past," Athos replies. "You never … you never make me feel like I am doing something wrong by being Porthos' friend," he says, his voice a little hoarse. "You never make me feel like a burden." 

Aramis can't help the tears springing to his eyes, can't help craning his neck and giving Athos his kiss back. "I wouldn't have it any other way – or you, for that matter." 

"See, and that is why I was afraid to lose you," Athos whispers. "Because, this time, Porthos would not be the only one to suffer." 

"A little more of this and I'm going to cry," Aramis gets out, and he turns his face into Athos' shoulder, hides his treacherous eyes. 

He hears Athos huff, so very fond, and then Athos' hand is in his hair, stroking it ever so gently. That is how Porthos finds them, a few minutes later. 

"I see you're doin' fine without me," he comments, rounding the corner, sounding pleased. "Have you eaten?" 

"We could never do _that_ well," Athos drawls, and Aramis smiles at Porthos, little hearts in his eyes. 

"Welcome home." 

Porthos steps up to the couch then, puts his knee on the edge so he can lean over them and give Aramis a kiss. "Thank you, kitten." He pulls back, just a little, and looks into Athos' eyes. "Everythin' ok?" 

"Oh, yes," Athos says, warm amusement in his voice. "He managed to alleviate all of my fears." 

He gets a kiss on the cheek for that, soft and lingering, and Aramis watches Athos close his eyes, watches him go still and pliant. Porthos should really do that more often, Aramis thinks. It looks really nice; and Athos seems to like it a lot, too. Porthos pulls back far too quickly, and even though Aramis gets another kiss, a really good one, he's still a little disappointed. Athos deserves so much affection, and he allows himself so very little. 

"I brought leftovers from the orphanage," Porthos proclaims at that point, getting up from the couch and straightening. "Do you wanna watch a movie while we eat?" 

Aramis and Athos exchange a glance. 

"Something quiet?" Aramis asks, and Athos nods. 

"That would be lovely." 

So they curl up on the couch with chili and The Blindside, with Athos sandwiched between Aramis and Porthos. 

"I am fine, truly," he says at one point, when Porthos pulls him right back against his side after he got rid of their plates for them. "You need not -" 

"I've been surrounded by screaming children on my day off," Porthos interrupts him. "I don't need anymore unnecessary noise." 

Athos glares at him. "I just thought you might like to cuddle your boyfriend." 

"And so I will," Porthos replies serenely. "Later." 

Athos sighs, and Aramis gives him a kiss – on the cheek. "You know he likes it just as much as you do." 

Athos flushes. "I do not -" 

"Yes, you do," Porthos whispers. "Now be quiet." 

Aramis watches Athos bite his lip, and smiles to himself. "Do you want to come to bed with us later?" 

There's a moment of silence, and then Athos leans into Aramis, rests his head on his shoulder. "Yes," Aramis hears him murmur. "I would like that."


End file.
